


A New Disaster Every Day

by trashcangimmick



Series: Fantastic Wreck [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Car Sex, Daddy Kink, Detroit: Become Garbage, Established Relationship, Fucking So Good You Gotta Reboot Amirite Fellas, M/M, Post-Canon, Robot Sex, Self-Lubrication, Sex Toys, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:19:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: Connor convinces Hank to fuck in the car during their lunch break.





	A New Disaster Every Day

**Author's Note:**

> Ask and ye shall receive. Hank turns the toy up to ten.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon. No new cases. Just a lot of paperwork to fill out after the scuffle that occurred while Hank and Connor were apprehending their most recent perpetrator. A Red Ice dealer who calls himself ‘Jaz’. Mr. Jaz has the somewhat dubious distinction of being the first Android drug dealer they’ve managed to arrest. He also made the mistake of pointing a gun at Hank. As a result, Connor might have been slightly overzealous in his defensive maneuvering. He left Jaz alive, at least. Just. Severely damaged.

 

Hank went through the motions of scolding him after the fact, but he has been in an excellent mood since they got back to the station. He’s even humming to himself as he fills out forms, which almost never happens.

 

 **_Probability of Seduction Success:_ ** _68.4%_

 

Connor lets his foot slide forward, underneath his desk, over to Hank’s side. He nudges against the toe of Hank’s Chuck Taylor’s. Those ridiculous canvas sneakers with no arch support that Hank insists upon wearing despite the fact they hurt his feet.

 

Hank glances up at him between his computer monitors. Curious. A smile teasing at the corners of his lips.

 

 **_^ Probability of Seduction Success:_ ** _73.3%_

 

“Are you hungry, Lieutenant?”

 

“I could eat.” Hank shrugs. “What’d you have in mind?”

 

“Perhaps we could take a break and go to one of those drive throughs you so enjoy.”

 

“Yeah?” Hank almost sounds skeptical. “You’re not gonna give me a hard time about eating junk?”

 

“Not today.”

 

 **^** **_Probability of Seduction Success:_ ** _79.6%_

 

“All right. Let’s go.”

 

Hank gets up, stretching his arms above his head as he walks towards the door. Connor falls into step behind him. Nobody gives them a second glance as they leave. They often take their lunches together.

 

The parking lot if fairly empty. Not unusual at around 14:30. People take late lunches, or are off-premises, doing leg work. Hank presses a button on his keys to unlock the car. Before he can open the door and get in, Connor slides up beside him. Puts a hand on Hank’s hip and squeezes.

 

Hank raises an eyebrow, but does not pull away. Connor leans in close. Almost close enough to press a kiss against Hank’s neck.

 

“I saw the strangest thing the other day… when you were attempting to retrieve your cigarettes from the glove compartment.”

 

Hank’s heart rate increases. Of course, there’s no way he did it by accident. Fumbling the glove box open while Connor was sitting in the passenger’s seat. Giving him a clear view of the metallic pleasure wand, stored there amongst registration papers and extra scarves. Connor didn’t say anything at the time, as they were in the middle of a steakout. But he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

 

For the most part, Hank is frustratingly resistant to public displays of intimacy. He has some valid arguments, about how they might not be allowed to work together if HR got wind of their physical relationship. But he protests even after work. When they are at dinner, or bars, or other social events.

 

Connor has asked.

 

_‘Are you ashamed of me?’_

 

Of course, Hank said, _‘No! Are you fucking crazy? Look at you. You’re beautiful. I just—I don’t roll that way, kid. I like to keep private shit private.’_

 

Connor doesn’t find that explanation entirely satisfactory. But he doesn’t push it. He knows that Hank has limited capacity to deal with sensitive topics. Hank prefers not to talk about things, if at all possible. He will answer questions to a certain point. Then he shuts down and becomes morose. It takes a lot of coaxing to get him back into a good mood.

 

Still. Connor wants to touch Hank, and be close to him, and express affection—not just when they’re at home but throughout the day. Hank doesn’t seem to realize the positive effect that physical contact has on him. He relaxes. Smiles more. It lowers his blood pressure. It’s not healthy for him to be experiencing such high levels of stress all the time. The excess cortisol wreaks havoc on his immune system and makes him more susceptible to disease. Having constantly tense muscles puts undue wear on his joints. Something as simple as a kiss at regular intervals through the day could add years to his life.

 

Connor understands that his desires aren’t entirely unselfish. He very much enjoys sex with Hank. Much like most beings with the capacity to experience pleasure, he seeks it out as often as is feasible. Hank occasionally expresses annoyance at Connor’s relatively high libido. But he never actually seems bothered by it. Another of Hank’s eccentricities. He seems to find satisfaction in pretending to be frustrated, without actually feeling that way.

 

Humans do that a lot. Say one thing, mean the opposite. Hank says they can’t have sex at work. But then he’s keeping toys in the car.

 

“So, what?” Hank’s voice has gone a little lower. Gruff the way it does when they’re about to be physical.

 

“Perhaps we could take an extra long lunch break. We’ve undoubtedly earned it.”

 

There’s silence for a beat. Then Hank reaches for the back door instead of the front. He holds it open, gesturing for Connor to get inside.

 

**_Seduction Successful._ **

 

Connor settles down in the back seat. Hank gets in after him and pulls the door shut. He leans forward, between the two front seats to pop the glove box open. Connor busies himself, kicking off his shoes, stripping out of his slacks, slipping off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. He folds this clothes neatly and tosses them onto the front seat. He doesn’t have anything to change into, so it’s safer to just remove everything.

 

“Jesus. You’re not eager at all, huh?” Hank chuckles. He sets the wand down on the seat next to him. Connor can’t help staring.

 

Just the sense memory is enough to make him hard. It’s almost too much. Having his pleasure sensors directly stimulated so intensely. It makes Connor writhe, and shriek, and orgasm for minutes on end. Hank hasn’t even turned it up all the way. The highest they’ve gotten is apparently a seven out of ten. Connor _needs_ to know what a ten feels like. He’s begged for it. Hank just refuses to give it to him, because he likes to tease.

 

Connor surges forward, climbing into Hank’s lap, kissing him, clutching at him, radiating desperation because this is the only time he’s allowed to. Sex is the only time Hank lets him be this needy. It’s the only time he doesn’t scoff at Connor’s insatiable desire to touch, and feel, and be close.

 

 _“Daddy,”_ Connor whimpers.

 

Hank’s reaction is always beautiful. He wraps his thick arms around Connor’s waist and holds him like something precious. Kisses him deep and dirty. The slide of lips and tongues makes Connor dizzy.

 

He’s conflicted when Hank lets go. Because Hank needs his hands for the toy, and Connor wants the toy very much, but he also likes being held. He whines, inarticulate. His verbal processors are already lagging. And that’s before he feels the cold tip of the wand pressing against him.

 

He’s already wet. It slides in easily. Hank kisses his neck, beard scratching against the sensitive skin so deliciously.

 

“You ready, baby? This is what you wanted, right?”

 

_“Yesyesyes.”_

 

Hank powers up the toy.

 

It’s an explosion of sensation. Connor’s visual cortex glitches. Everything is blurry. Warnings flash across his HUD.

 

 **_^ Heart Rate:_ ** _109bmp_

 **_^ Internal Temperature:_ ** _40.5_ **_°_ ** _C_

 

He’s coming. Whole body spasming. Every muscle contracting and releasing, flooding him with input. He’s moaning into Hank’s mouth. They’re still kissing. Or Hank’s kissing him. Connor has lost the capacity to reciprocate.

 

It feels a little bit like melting. Being on fire? Like he’s in the middle of a closed electrical circuit. The pleasure signals smear, tangle with discomfort, everything gets sharper. It keeps going. Increases. He clutches at Hank’s shoulders. Shuddering violently.

 

“That’s just a five.” Hank murmurs. “You want more?”

 

 _“PleaseDaddy.”_ The words are slurred. Hank still seems to understand.

 

 **_^ Heart Rate:_ ** _129bpm_

 **_^ Internal Temperature:_ ** _41.2_ **_°_ ** _C_

 **_Warning:_ ** _cooldown advised._

 

Connor feels his sensors trying to shut down. He’s quick enough to stop them.

 

 **_Warning:_ ** _Refractory_Period override may result in errors and decreased performance._

 

He’s tried to turn off the warnings about it. So far, he hasn’t figured out a way to escape them. At the moment he doesn’t really care. He’s incapable of focusing on anything but the shocks of heat coursing through him. He feels himself start to seize up.

 

 **_Warning:_ ** _fine motor control offline._

 **_Warning:_ ** _locomotion systems unresponsive._

 

Connor gasps. It’s an oddly human reaction. He doesn’t need to breathe. But when he’s with Hank, like this, he feels like he’s drowning.

 

Hank must adjust the current again. Every circuit in Connor’s body seems to light up. His visual processor goes offline completely. It’s just a dark screen, covered in notifications, and garbled bits of code. He wants to cling to Hank tighter, but he can’t move.

 

“You ready?” Hank’s voice is rough, like he’s already been smoking and drinking straight whiskey for half the night.

 

Connor wishes he could respond with anything more than a strangled cry. But it’s apparently enough. The sensations increase exponentially. There’s a disjointed buzzing in Connor’s ears. Radio static. He can feel his cock twitching, still dribbling ejaculate. Everything starts to scramble.

 

He’s never felt such incredible pleasure in his toes before. That’s probably not supposed to happen. Suddenly every sensor in his body is registering the same thing. Orgasm.

 

 **_^ Heart Rate:_ ** _189bpm_

 **_^ Internal Temperature:_ ** _65_ _°_ _C_

**_Restart required._ **

 

He tastes the color blue. Then red. Smells the song that was playing on the radio this morning. The one Hank sang along to, even though it was in German. _Du. Du hast. Du hast mich._ Hank doesn’t speak German.

 

He can hear Hank’s hand on his hip, squeezing tight.

 

It’s the last thing he registers before he can’t register anything at all.

 

***

 

“You back yet, champ?”

 

The feeling comes into Connor’s extremities slowly. Like warm water washing over him. He’s slumped in Hank’s lap. Feels slick and terribly empty. He whines, nuzzling against Hank’s neck. Speech processors still struggling to boot up.

 

“Well, I hope you’re happy. I finally kicked this thing up to ten and it made you shut down.”

 

Connor wants to say that he’s very happy. All that comes out is, “Nghhh.”

 

“You also ruined my goddamned shirt. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back in the office like this.”

 

Hank always keeps a few changes of clothes in the trunk. Sometimes, detective work is messy. They both are well aware of this fact. Connor decides to bite the side of Hank’s neck since he’s still having trouble voicing a reply.

 

“Hey!” Hank smacks him on the ass. “Bad dog! No biting.”

 

Connor shivers at the contact. He can feel pain now. It comes with having his sensors dialed up to feel other things. He finds he’s not exactly adverse to it, however. Whenever Hank swats at him… he finds it stimulating.

 

He shifts, subtly grinding against Hank’s hardness. Of course, Hank is still aroused. He always seems to enjoy watching Connor orgasm. Connor is no longer getting warnings about overloaded sensors. His temperature is back in normal range.

 

“Seriously?” Hank snorts. “You just came so hard you had to restart, and you’re ready to go again?”

 

“Wanna make you feel good, Daddy.”

 

“Jesus.”

 

Hank doesn’t protest when Connor drops his hands and starts to fumble with his belt. Intricate motions are still difficult. But connor manages. He gets Hank’s jeans unzipped, pulls his dick out and sinks down onto it.

 

Granted, it’s a different sensation from having a direct current on his pleasure receptors. But it’s no less satisfying. Connor groans as Hank fills him. Stretches him, depressing the pressure plate inside him. It feels so good. Connor doesn’t understand how humans do anything else when they could be having sex all the time. Maybe that’s really it. Human’s can’t ignore their need to take a break after the fact. Maybe that’s the only reason they managed to build a civilization in the first place.

 

Connor starts to move. Rolling his hips. Rocking down on Hank’s cock slow and dirty. He wants to savor every second. Etch it into his memory. This bone deep ache. An insatiable desire to press closer. It’s never close enough.

 

“Fuck.” Hank grunts. He grabs Connor’s ass. Squeezes. But he doesn’t try to speed things up. He lets Connor set the pace.

 

Connor ran across the phrase _making love_ while reading some of the fiction Hank has lying around the house. It stuck in his brain. Repeated over and over–like a catchy tune, an earworm. He wonders if that’s what they’re doing. That’s what it feels like. Grasping desperately at each other. Kissing while Hank’s so deep inside him.

 

He can tell Hank is close. Rapid breathing, increased heart rate, splotchy flush creeping up his neck.

 

 _“Come inside me, Daddy.”_ Barely a whisper. The permission Hank needs to fall apart. He always tries to last. Make sure Connor gets off first, regardless of what else they’ve done. Connor isn’t sure he’s capable of another orgasm right now. It feels good, but his sensors are dulled, trying to recover.

 

Hank groans softly. Connor can feel the surge of heat as Hank reaches climax. The added slickness. That incredible satisfaction rising in his chest. He’s not sure why, exactly. He just knows he likes it when Hank finishes this way. Spills inside Connor’s body. Fills him up.

 

Connor doesn’t want to move off Hank’s lap. Hank seems happy enough to let him sit there. They stay like that for a while. Still kissing. Coming down off the high.

 

“You know, that was stupid what you did earlier.” Hank’s tone is gruff. But his gaze is soft.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Jumping at some asshole with a loaded gun. You could have gotten hurt.”

 

“I was prepared for that outcome. It’s was a calculated risk.”

 

“That so?”

 

“It’s easier to replace my hardware than yours.”

 

“You fucking sap.” Hank reaches up and ruffles Connor’s hair. Connor elects not to protest.

**Author's Note:**

> [Extraordinary Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T14ux2k7rk0) by Fiona Apple is mood. I'm on [tumblr](http://trashcangimmick.tumblr.com/). Follow for shitposts and nonstop hannor trash !!


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